


Matters of Necessity

by Lanerose



Category: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying to their younger selves is a decision that weighs heavily on TYL!Sawada and TYL!Gokudera, even after the fact.  Spoilers through Chapter 137.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matters of Necessity

**Author's Note:**

> This eventually got jossed, but I still like it.

The lights in the Tenth's room were off when Hayato entered, but Sawada Tsunayoshi was by no means sleeping. Gokudera closed the door behind himself and strode in, making himself useful by turning down the still untouched sheets. He pulled a pair of pajamas from the Tenth's drawer, and placed them neatly on the bed. In the moonlight, the bright smiley faces on the trousers seemed to glower. Hayato ducked into the bathroom, and grabbed the dressing gown off its hook so that it could join the pajamas, soft warm wool to cover light cotton in the cool Italian autumn.

And when he could think of nothing else, Gokudera walked over to the window seat that his boss, with one knee absently drawn to his chest, was sitting in.

Hayato lit a cigarette, took a drag, and leaned his back against the wall. The Tenth had always kept his room simpler than the Ninth's was, just some odds and ends brought back from trips to Japan (home, Tenth still insisted), with none of the typical mafia niceties. Probably had something to do with the difference between Eastern and Western mentalities about such things, but Hayato had never been sure. He liked it, though: fewer shadows to jump at.

Gokudera turned, looking over his boss's head and out the window. He'd thought that the leaves shouldn't be falling yet, but there they were – yellow and red dancing in the wind. He knew what had happened in those months, remembered it as if it had been yesterday, and yet it seemed so far –

"It was cruel," the Tenth said. Hayato didn't need to ask what. He could still see it when he closed his eyes – the Tenth, ten years younger, his eyes bright but clouded with confusion, smiling at him from inside a coffin with the Roman numeral X across it.

Gokudera looked away from the window, settling back against the wall. He closed his eyes. "Necessary, Tenth."

"Was it?" A soft thump told Hayato that the boss was resting his head against the window. "Was it really?"

Hayato had wondered that himself, hundreds, maybe thousands of times in the ten years since he'd first seen it. Not so much at first, when he'd been too busy wondering how he could have let his Boss die, but later. When the threats of ten years ago had been defeated, he had wondered how they would have survived without the advanced training that they had gotten in the future. Xanxus and the Varia hadn't respected them then – had still been adjusting to their defeat, to a loss not forged in blood shed but forced upon them by the fate of birth. The Ninth could have sent help, but more than Basil for assistance would have been an unacceptable sign of weakness in the Tenth's fledgling family.

Then, too, there had been the early years, before the Tenth had fully developed into himself. When he was still weak enough to need the protection that Hayato, with that baseball idiot and the others, had given him. When Hayato's fears of the future had pushed him to become even stronger, to be a better shield for his boss, to be the strongest right hand he could so that the world would not turn out as he thought it had. How many times would the Tenth – how many times would he have died, if not for that extra bit of incentive?

The set-up was obvious in retrospect, but for nine years they had sincerely feared the worst. How often had the Tenth died in his dreams? Hayato remembered the blood that had never splattered across the inner courtyard, never pooled around the Tenth's body. He remembered a fall the Tenth had never taken, and a distance he had never needed to close to put himself between his boss and the shot that would never be taken. Even knowing it hadn't happened, the nightmares still came. But the fear – the fear had been good. The fear had kept them alive.

The Tenth already knew that, though.

Gokudera took another drag off his cigarette. "Necessary, boss."

He opened his eyes as he exhaled, watching the smoke curl slowly upwards. The Tenth sighed. Hayato peered at his boss from the corner of his eyes. The Tenth's slim frame was slouched against the window as expected, his tie loose around his neck and the first few buttons of his shirt open. He was looking down, but his face was more resigned than regretful.

"You should sleep," Hayato said, looking carefully away from his boss, "unless you think Hibari will go easy on you tomorrow."

The Tenth grimaced. "Don't let Hibari hear you say that."  
  
"I'm just sayin'-"  
  
"No, I get it." The Vongola boss grabbed Hayato's ash tray from the windowsill - Hayato's, because the Tenth didn't smoke and no one else who did ever came in here - and offered it to Hayato. Hayato stubbed his cigarette out and set it back on the windowsill. He offered his boss a hand, which the Tenth grabbed before he swung his legs down. Hayato escorted his boss to the bed, and when the Tenth shrugged out his jacket, Hayato was there, easing it over his shoulders. He headed into the closet and hung it neatly on its hanger. The Tenth had just finished pulling on his pajamas when Hayato turned back. Hayato grabbed the rest of the clothing to put in the laundry and did so as the Tenth slid beneath the covers. Hayato headed slowly toward the door.  
  
"Necessary?" The Tenth asked. He looked somehow small and frail again amongst the overstuffed pillows and fine linens, pale in the moonlight like the child he had once been who woke up in a coffin.  
  
"Definitely." Hayato said.  
  
And if Hayato sounded more certain then he felt, it was worth it to see the way the boss smiled at him and settled back peacefully against the pillows before Hayato exited, shutting the door behind him. He engaged the lock and turned to head down the corridor, but stopped.  
  
"You're late," he said, eyeing the idiot, who stood at the end of the corridor with his sword clasped loosely behind his neck.  
  
"Nah," Yamamoto said, shaking his head. "I think I got here at just the right time."  
  
The ex-baseball player smiled.  
  
Gokudera shook his head and stormed passed, leaving only a snorted "Idiot" in his wake.


End file.
